The school year was winding down. My dad had spoken to me about the coming summer. I could just kick back like I’d done in the past. He didn’t have a problem with that. But he also asked if I had any interest in getting a job. He told me I should think about it. And while I was busy doing that, he said I might also like to start thinking about what I wanted to do in college. It was time I put some thought into that, he told me. I’d be applying to colleges next year, and if I had some idea what I wanted to study, it might make choosing a college easier.
It was a little unsettling, having him talk to me about these things. All kids, I imagine, want to grow up, and are really eager for it to happen, usually. But when the time gets close, and you have to start thinking about important things, like jobs and college, it’s a little scary. It means you’re closer to the time you have to leave home, and I don’t know about all those other kids, but I wasn’t ready to do that yet.
Of course I’d thought a little about what I wanted to do for a living. I knew more what I didn’t want to do than did. I envied the kids who did, who had it all figured out.
I hadn’t given any thought at all to a summer job. I’d just goofed off every summer before this. I could distinctly remember being bored stiff last summer, not really doing anything but some reading and practicing the clarinet and lying around the house and swimming alone in the pool. That had stopped being fun in the first week of vacation. So the thought of a summer job, if it was an interesting one, wasn’t too bad.
Of course, I didn’t have any friends last summer. Now I had Kevin and Becky, and even Timothy, I supposed, though I didn’t hang with him after school at all like I did with the others. If they were going to be hanging around at loose ends all summer, then I could too, and it wouldn’t be boring at all. I needed to talk to them about summer.
I hadn’t done that yet, or made any decisions yet, either. I began thinking about a summer job, and about college. But mostly I was thinking about growing up. Thinking about it made it a little less scary. I wondered if my dad had known that? Had he known thinking about it would be scary for me, and that by thinking about it more and more, some of the worry would go away?
◊ ◊
Kevin and I were walking. It was warm. That’s not saying much because it’s always warm, mostly, in Southern California, but it was the end of May, and so it was springtime warm instead of winter warm. The air smelled different, the sun felt different, and we were walking. It felt wasteful to be inside.
We’d walked around the block, sort of aimlessly, feeling sort of like how you do on a warm spring day. Now we were walking toward the grassy area that eventually led down to the woods and pond where we’d kissed each other that one time. That only time. We weren’t necessarily going there. We were just walking, and the grass was in front of us. We weren’t going anywhere, really.
“Kev, you doing anything this summer?”
We’d been talking desultorily, and now he didn’t answer right away. He seemed to be pondering the question, though that didn’t make a lot of sense because it wasn’t that difficult a question. But we walked a ways farther before he answered.
“I might have something going on. Why?”
“No reason. Just curious. I was thinking maybe I’d get a job. My dad said he thought he could get me one with the Parks Department, maybe supervising some kids’ activities. I was considering it.”
We walked on. We’d reached the grass. We walked over to one of the large trees a good distance from the sidewalk, and Kevin sat down in the shade, leaning back against the trunk, his legs sprawled out in front of him. I looked at him sitting there, then lay down at right angles to him, my head on his stomach, looking up at him face, the tree branches forming a background high above.
“That sounds like it could be a fun job,” he said at last.
“It might be. Last summer I was bored.” I paused and looked around, enjoying the lazy day. “Of course, I didn’t know you last summer.”
I felt him sort of twitch when I said that.
“Your dad and mom planning any sort of vacation?” he asked me.
“We usually go someplace for a week or so,” I told him. “I don’t know what they have planned. I guess if I have a job, they’d work the vacation around that. I wouldn’t think the city would have supervised youth activities at the park the entire summer, would they? I mean, there’d be a week or two at either end of the school vacation where I wouldn’t have to be working, at least I’d think that’d be how it worked.”
He plucked a couple long pieces of grass, then put his hands together like he was praying and stretched the blades between the thumb knuckles and where the thumbs met his hands so they were lying tight against each other. Then he blew through them and they squawked like a duck. I laughed, and he smiled. “Sounds like you should take the job,” he said. “You don’t want to be bored again.”
I looked over at him. He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking out over the rest of the park. I felt a twinge of something in my stomach. Fear? That’s too strong a word. Maybe trepidation.
I looked away too, and said, as casually as I could, “I didn’t want to commit to anything till I knew what you were doing.”
No hesitation this time. “I’m probably going to be busy. If the job sounds good, you ought to go for it.”
I moved off him then, and lay down on my side on the grass so I could look at him. I did, and stared at him, at his face. He wasn’t looking back.
“Kev?”
“What?”
“What are you saying here? You’ll probably be busy? Busy doing what?”
He was silent for a while, and I was starting to get anxious. Then he said, “I don’t want to tell you.”
“You don’t want to tell me! Uh, why not? We tell each other everything. What is all this? You’re making me, I don’t know, edgy I guess. Okay, you’re worrying me. What’s going on?”
“You worry about everything, Matt. It’s one of the things I love about you,” he said with a grin in his voice, and my stomach stopped being a lot queasy and settled down just a little bit.
“I’m trying to get better and not worry so much, and you’re changing the subject. What’s going on with you this summer?”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Why not? Come on, Kev!”
He still wasn’t looking at me. He continued to not look at me, and then he sighed.
“I don’t want to jinx anything. I don’t want to talk about some things. I want . . . .”
He stopped. Then he turned his head so our eyes were locked. He stared without speaking for a while, then jumped up and brushed off his shorts. I was still on the ground, looking up at him. “Come on,” he said, “Let’s walk some more.” I couldn’t read him at all.
I got up. When he took off walking this time, it was with more purpose and direction than we’d had before. Then, we’d been simply walking. Now, we were going somewhere.
I quickly figured out where he was going. We were walking down the long slope towards the woods. No one else was around. It was four o’clock in the afternoon. The whole park was deserted.
We didn’t talk, just walked. I had to jog a little to catch up with him at first, and I did, then walked by his side. We got to the bottom of the hill and walked along the side of the creek till we got into the woods. It was a little cooler there. When we came to the pond, I saw our fallen tree still there. Kevin walked to it and sat down. I hesitated. He seemed different somehow, and I didn’t want to trespass on his feelings.
He looked up at me when I didn’t join him, then scowled just a little and patted the branch next to him. I felt better then, and sat next to him.
I figured it was his time to talk, so I remained silent. We sat there a few minutes, looking at the pond. The trees didn’t entirely block out the sky, so there was some dappled sunlight falling on us and the pond, and as the leaves moved in the light breeze, the spots of light glittering on the water would shift, making it appear the water was moving.
“I like this spot,” he said. Then he reached over and put his hand on mine where it was resting on my leg. I don’t know why, but I turned my hand over, and our palms were touching and then we were holding each other’s hand.
“I haven’t forgotten when we kissed here,” he said. “I don’t think I ever will. When I kissed you, I was scared to death. When you put your arms around me and kissed me back, all my fears went away. It was perfect.”
I didn’t say anything. It sounded to me like he had more to say, and I didn’t want to interrupt him. I had the impression he’d been saving this up.
“I loved you before that, and I’ve loved you since. Nothing’s changed for me, Matt, except each day I know you a little better, and so love you a little more. I know that’s not going to change. It won’t. I know that. I’m just waiting for you to love me like I do you. And I’m going to keep waiting till you tell me you don’t want me to love you any more. You’ve told me I should find someone my own age. You’ve told me I shouldn’t wait for you. But you never asked me to stop loving you. I think you like it that I do. And as long as you like it, as long as there’s a chance for me with you, I’m waiting.
“You’ve told me I’m too young, and that I’m too far behind you in school, that we’d have to wait too long to be together. I can’t do anything about being two years younger than you are. I always will be. But I can do something about being two years behind you in school, and so the long wait between when you go off to college and I graduate from high school and can join you doesn’t have to be all that long. I can make up a year. If I do that, you won’t have to be at college for two years before I can join you. It’ll be only one. I’m hoping one year alone at college won’t be more than you can handle. I’m hoping being away from me that one year simply makes your heart grow fonder.”
He stopped, but was holding my hand tighter now, and I had the feeling he was doing that because he was willing me not to say anything against what he’d just said. His hand told me he was scared I’d break the spell.
“I didn’t want to tell you,” he said softly. “I was afraid you’d laugh at me, tell me whatever I did in school wouldn’t make a difference. I didn’t want to hear that. I was afraid to have this conversation.”
I squeezed his hand then, as tightly as he was squeezing mine, trying to communicate silently that I wasn’t going to laugh at him, that I’d never do that.
“How are you going to make up a year of school?” I asked, speaking as softly as he had. Speaking seriously. “You can’t do that, can you?”
“I’m going to summer school for some stuff, and I’ve had my tutor back twice a week all this semester. That’s why you haven’t seen me much on those days. I got with my guidance counselor and we worked it out. I’ve been doing this since the beginning of second semester. I’ll test out of a few classes, take the rest in summer school, and jump from my freshman year this year to the junior class year next year. When we start again in the fall, I’ll only be one year behind you, and then I’ll be a senior when you leave for college. I’m looking into whether I can make up another semester, too, so I can graduate in January of my senior year, but that’s trickier because they don’t give second semester classes in the first semester and it would all have to be done with the tutor and testing. But it might be possible.”
I was stunned. He’d be working his ass off and sacrificing a lot of social life, just to be closer to me. I didn’t know what to say.
“I want to know something though, Matt. I’m doing this so we can be together. I just want to know.” His voice had become hesitant. That wasn’t like Kevin. Right now, he sounded almost, well, scared. He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at the ground. “Can we be, Matt? Can we be together, sometime? I need to know if you think it’s possible we can be, someday.”
Now he was really squeezing my hand hard. I looked at him, and saw he was trembling.
I didn’t answer him. Instead, I pulled my hand loose, then put my arms around him. I pulled him to me, pulled him tight into me, and hugged him, hard, and then waited. I waited for him to look up at me. When he did, and our eyes were locked together, I kissed him. He eagerly kissed me back.
We kissed for a while, not with great passion, but with great feeling. I don’t know that I can explain the difference, but there was one. I could feel his hope and longing for love in his kiss. I could feel his fear. I hoped he could feel what I was giving him back in mine. I was giving him my confusion, uncertainty, worry, and love. I didn’t try to hide any of this from my kiss, and so it was full of tenderness rather than lust. I think he noticed, because his kiss was also tentative, like he was trying to feel what I was feeling. It felt to me like we were communicating with that kiss. I wanted to communicate my feelings to him. I wanted him to feel what I was feeling, and understand what I was telling him with that kiss. Behind it all, underneath my kiss, at the bottom of it all, my love was there, and I wanted him to feel that more than anything.
Eventually we pulled apart, but he didn’t let go of me. He kept his arms around me and put his head against my chest.
I couldn’t hold back. He would misunderstand, I knew, but he was in pain, and I had to soothe it. So, I told him then. I said it. I said, “Kevin, I love you. I do. I told you that in the swimming pool. I don’t know if you believed me then, because I told you we couldn’t be together the way you wanted to, because I told you nothing had changed. But I do love you. I’ve known it for a long time. I’m just not ready yet. I know it’s stupid. I know you’d like to be doing things. We should be doing stuff together. I do love you. But I can’t get it out of my head that you’re a freshman, and I’d be taking advantage of you, that you’re not old enough to be making this decision, that you might change your mind.”
He pushed away a little then, and looked up at me. “You really believe that?” he asked, sounding hurt.
I had to say what I thought and not hurt him, and wasn’t sure I could. It was difficult to say what I felt. But he needed to know. So, I told him. “Kevin, you’re 14. Most kids who fall in love with someone when they’re that age fall out of love just as easily. They have three or four or five romances in high school. Very few kids who go on to college end up with their high school lovers. The fact is, as we mature, we change. What we want, what we like, changes. I know you love me now. I can see it in your eyes, and I feel it when we’re together. You love me. And Kevin, I love you too. I’m afraid to say that to you because I’m scared you’ll take too much hope from it. Because still, nothing’s changed. We’re still not going to do anything. I don’t want to break your heart if I change when I go to college and find someone else. I don’t want you to break my heart if I don’t change but you do, and almost everyone does. I don’t want to hold you back from doing that, from finding someone you love more than me, hold you back from allowing your love for me to change to love for someone else. I don’t want you feeling guilty. You’re 14, Kevin. You need to be free to find whatever you want.”
His face clouded. He pushed away from me, straightening up on the tree branch. “So you don’t think I’ll love you forever. You think this is what, a crush? Puppy love? Something that’s going to change next week?” His words got angrier as he spoke them.
“Kevin, stop it! This is why I didn’t want to tell you how much I love you. I know you love me, and I’m not belittling that love. I just want you to be free to find someone else, because at your age, that’s what happens, what probably will happen.”
“The problem isn’t me, Matt. It’s you. You’re scared.” His words were hard, angry. “You worry about everything, and now you won’t just let us be in love, you have to bring all your worries into it. Shit! How can you worry that one of us might stop loving the other? It’s just stupid to worry about that. What else can you find to worry about? Yeah, I know, maybe that the sky will become pea green instead of blue. Maybe that they’ll discover eating fresh fruits and vegetables causes mumps. You probably worry about that, too. Damn it, Matt. Stop worrying about stuff that you can’t do anything about and just accept what you have and enjoy it! I’m not going to stop loving you. You have to give us a chance!”
“I knew you’d misunderstand,” I said.
He looked fire at me then, and got off the branch and walked over to the pond. He stared into it, his back to me, rigid with anger. As time passed and he didn’t move, just stood there, I started to get worried. What if when he turned around, he told me he couldn’t do this any more? What if he said he wanted someone who could love him back as he loved them and I was just too, too what? Too timid, too worried, too much a basket case? As he stood there thinking, I had a feeling that maybe he was coming to a decision, and it wouldn’t be one I liked. Because I did love him. Saying it out loud to him just now had made it more clear to me than ever. I loved him, and didn’t want to lose him. But I knew I was right, too. I wasn’t ready for any commitment, and I wanted him to be free to reach out for whatever it was he wanted. I didn’t want him bogged down with me.
Eventually, some of the tension eased in his back, and he turned around. I looked into his face, hoping I wouldn’t see anger, hoping there would still be love there. What I saw, I couldn’t read.
He walked back to the branch, and sat down.
“Matt,” he said, and his voice was just his voice. “I do understand. You’re like you’ve always been, which is why I was attracted to you in the first place. You’re being yourself, and I don’t understand it, but I know it’s your conscience speaking, your principles. I know you have these convictions that tell you how to act. I fell in love with you because of those things. So it would be hypocritical for me now to be angry with you for what caused me to want to be with you in the first place, and has made that love I have for you grow stronger every day since.
“So I understand. I also understand that you still don’t get it. I’m not going anywhere. I love you. And now, you told me you love me. That’s what I wanted to hear. I think you’re screwy in the head, but it’s the head I love, and I’m going to be here when you finally come to your senses. I think you’re right: you’re just not ready. When you’re ready, I’ll be here. I’m going to take those classes and be a junior next year. When you go to college, I’ll be right behind you. You’ll see what all your worries amount to—nothing. And we’ll have wasted all this time. Only we’re not wasting it, because we’re together. And being together with you is all I want. Well, not all I want. I’d like some sex, too, but if I have to wait for that, lots of people do. At some point, you’ll come to your senses and we’ll have sex. I can wait. I’ve been waiting. So that hasn’t changed. What has changed is you’ve reconfirmed that you love me. So my waiting now seems to have more purpose, and it’s going to be easier to do.”
I felt tears come to my eyes. I hadn’t lost him, like I’d been worrying was going to happen as I’d seen him get angry at me. He was looking at me and saw the tears. He smiled, then pulled my head down to his and kissed me. It was more like a parental kiss than anything else. Comforting. Supportive.
So I stepped out of myself for a moment. I grabbed him and really kissed him back, showing him some of the passion I had for him, some of the fire I’d been holding back for so long, thinking of how inappropriate it was to have inside me for a 14-year-old kid but showing him it was there. I let it control me for a few moments, and kissed him with raw abandon and vicious desire. When I stopped, I was panting and wild and almost overcome. He was in the same condition, because, when he’d felt my emotions, he’d almost immediately returned them as ardently as I was giving them.
He reached for me again, and I fended him off. I knew, I knew, if we embraced again right then, we wouldn’t be able to stop, and no matter what, I was still the same Matt.
He looked a little hurt and a lot angry, but sooner than I thought possible, he smiled, then laughed. “Remember back when we talked about being horny, and I told you that you must be too old? Well, I revise my thinking. You’re as horny as I am. And I’m really happy now, Matt. Now I have an idea what I’m waiting for, and I know you love me like I do you. Now, whether you like it or not, I’m going to kiss you again, because I want to feel what we just felt again, but that’s all I’m going to do. If you can hold yourself in check, so can I.”
And he did. He kissed me again. And the feelings all rushed back. I felt all the longing, the want, the need, build almost to bursting, and not going further was very, very hard. So very hard.
Well, you get the picture.
◊ ◊
“So you’re going to summer school. Do you know the schedule yet?” We were walking back from the park. Slowly.
“Yeah, it starts a week after school lets out and runs till three weeks before it starts again. But if I pass it, and we both know I will—hey, they’ll probably be asking me to sub for them before the summer’s over—I’ll be a junior. Then we can get it on!”
“Hey, wait a sec, Kevin. I didn’t say that. I said I’d feel differently, the age thing might not be as important, but I didn’t commit to anything else.”
I thought he might have a cow or something when I said that, but he didn’t. His mood was almost euphoric, much lighter and happier than when we’d walked down that long hill to the creek. When he didn’t comment right away to my remark, just smiled at me, I asked him about it.
“What’s gotten into you, anyway? It’s like Grumpy just turned into Happy.”
“You’re not saying I’m a dwarf, are you? You know I don’t like short jokes.”
“No, stupid. I’m talking about your mood, not your diminutive size.”
“See, there you go again!” He reached over and slugged me on the arm.
“Ow!”
“See what you get? Don’t mess with me.”
“Okay. Jeeeze! But why are you so happy all of a sudden?”
“You don’t know?”
I thought, and then said, “Because of what I said?”
“Yep. You told me you loved me. You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting to hear that.”
“I said it once before, you know.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure. You hadn’t said it after that. I needed to hear it again.”
“I’ve known it for awhile, Kev. I didn’t want to say it, because, well, I just told you all that. I wanted you to find someone your own age. I still do. And I don’t. I’m afraid you will. I’m very confused, Kev.”
“So what’s new?”
“Kevin!”
He slugged me again, then took off running. I finally caught him. He had to walk the rest of the way home with a noticeable lump in his crotch. I did too, but no one would look at me when I was with him, so I didn’t worry about it. I loved tickling him.
◊ ◊
I asked my dad what sort of vacation we would be going on this year. He said he’d spoken to Mom and they had thought going to Yosemite for a week, that it would be fun renting a camper and staying at the camping ground there, then exploring the park. He said we could also go to the Grand Canyon, or Bryce or one of the other parks if I’d prefer.
I asked when, and he said it would depend on when a camping space was available. I told him to reserve one for just before school started, at the end of my summer vacation, that that’s when Kevin would be able to go with us, that he’d be in summer school until then. And even if I’d be working, if it really was possible a job could be lined up for me, I’d either be done by then or would let them know when I was being hired that I couldn’t work that last week.
I told him I’d asked Kevin if he could come with us, and he was excited about it and had said sure, if my parents would let him come. Dad opened and closed his mouth a couple times, then just grinned at me.
“I’ve never seen you assertive like that before. When did you get so bossy?” he asked with a big smile.
“Well, if you want me to come, you have to invite Kevin, too. And he can’t go till summer school’s out, so I might as well have the job. I’m not being bossy, just practical.”
“I’ll see if we can get a campsite. And talk to your mother. You have to get her permission to invite him, though she likes Kevin and I can’t imagine her having any problem with it.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
My eyes started doing tricks, so I said a quick thanks and attempted a smile. I hadn’t been expecting that.
He looked over at me. “Matt, I don’t think I’ve told you, but I’m really proud of how you’ve matured this year. You’re so much better able to handle things. I’ve even had some of the teachers stop me and talk about it. You’ve made such great progress. I hope you’re feeling good about yourself. Your mom and I are.”
◊ ◊
My dad told me I had an interview set with the Park Commissioner next week. He said all I had to do was be myself, talk intelligently and be friendly and I’d get the job.
I worried about whether I should wear some nice pants and a dress shirt and tie, or not, for the interview, but decided since if the job was what Dad had said it would be, that I’d be working outside with kids all summer, supervising their games and making sure they didn’t get in fights or anything, it would make more sense to go to the interview in shorts and a T-shirt, or maybe my school clothes.
The guy I was to meet was named Mr. Graves. There was an administration building at one of the larger parks in town, a couple miles from my house. Mr. Graves’ office was in the building. What I should wear was decided when Dad told me it had been arranged for me to meet Mr. Graves there at 4 PM on Friday. Instead of going home after school that day, I was just to go straight to the park for my interview.
I walked into the building about five minutes before my appointment. I was nervous. I’d never been to a job interview before. My dad had told me what it would probably be like, and told me what interviewers like to hear from people applying for jobs, so I wasn’t entirely unprepared. But it was still my first time.
Mr. Graves’ office was not the sort you see in movies or on TV, the type executives have with large wood desks and comfortable chairs facing it, with couches scattered around in the room, with built in shelves containing books and knickknacks, with thick carpeting on the floor and maybe an entertainment center and a wet bar off to the side. Instead it was a small room with cinder block walls and vinyl tile flooring and no rug. There was a small metal desk filling more than half the room and two hard backed, old scarred wood chairs taking up much of what was left of the space available. There was a fluorescent light fixture on the ceiling that provided bright, harsh light and hummed.
Mr. Graves was a middle-aged man in shirtsleeves who looked very fit. His hair was cut short and his biceps filled his sleeves. He didn’t have a secretary, and I looked into his office from the hall, a little uncertain how to proceed. He was working at his desk, and I stood for a moment, then knocked on the doorframe. He looked up.
“Matt?” he asked, and started to rise.
“Yes, sir. I’m Matt Tucker.”
He smiled at me and walked over to where I stood, only a couple of steps in the small office, and stuck out his hand. I took it and we shook.
“John Graves. Come on in, Matt. Take a seat. Sorry they’re not more comfortable.” He went back and sat behind his desk, and I took my backpack off, set it on one of the chairs and sat on the other one.
“Well, Matt, I know your father. We were at school together. I sent a notice around to the high schools in the city that we’d have a few openings this summer and would be hiring a few kids. The jobs would be in the city parks. He called me and said you thought you might be interested. So, tell me about yourself, and what sort of job you’re looking for.”
My dad had told me that most interviewers would ask me to tell them about myself, so I should have something prepared to say. Nothing too long, and don’t talk about any self-doubts I might have but instead what I thought I could do well, what I liked about myself, he’d said. He’d told me that I needed to sound confident and capable, that that’s the sort of person employers want to hire. He’d also said that somewhere in the interview, I should get an idea of what the job was they were trying to fill, and then tell the person I was talking to what traits I had to bring to that kind of job that would be valuable to them and make me a good fit for the job and so someone they would want to hire. He’d said being upbeat and enthusiastic without overdoing it was also a selling point. Selling myself was what I was supposed to be doing.
I’d never had to sell myself before, but I’d taken his advice to heart the night before and thought about how to answer if he wanted me to tell him who I was. I figured he didn’t want to hear me talk for ten or fifteen minutes, that probably three or four would be better, and that he probably was indifferent to the name of my third grade teacher or what my favorite food or color was. So I’d thought about it, and come up with some things to say, about what kind of student I was, what I considered my strong points were, and that I was responsible and punctual.
I talked about this to Mr. Graves, as I’d planned, and then told him that my dad had said there was a need for someone to supervise the games of some young kids, that that sounded like something I’d be real happy doing, and asked him if he could tell me about that job.
He said he’d get into that in a minute, but first, he’d like me to tell him what my weak points were.
Yikes! I hadn’t prepared anything for that question. I started to worry, and then, out of the blue, it occurred to me that that’s what he was trying to do, get me worried, put me under pressure, just to see how I’d react. When I thought of that, what I did was smile at him. I wanted him to see I didn’t rattle easily.
“Well, Mr. Graves, I don’t have a driver’s license, so I couldn’t take any job that required driving, either on the job or to get to the job. And there are a lot of guys that are a lot tougher than I am, so if you need someone to, say, referee adult rugby matches and break up fights, I’m probably not the best person to do that. But I’m fairly smart and learn quickly, so most jobs, I can catch on to what’s needed right away.”
He grinned at me. “Good answer. A lot of kids stumble all over themselves when I ask that.”
I smiled back, but didn’t say anything. I figured he’d want to talk now, and he did. He started telling me about the job. It was to be the activity director for a bunch of pre-teen kids. I’d be something like a day-camp counselor for kids who signed up with the city’s Park Department. The kids would come in the morning and meet me at 9 AM, and each day I’d have decided what activities they’d be involved in that day. They’d all bring a lunch with them, and they’d have time for eating it between 11:30 and 12:30, and then I’d have them till three in the afternoon when their parents would collect them. It would be Monday through Friday, and would run from the second week of their summer vacation till the second week of August, just about two months.
When he’d reached that point, I jumped in. “Mr. Graves, I think I could do a pretty good job for you in that position. I like younger kids, and they respond to me pretty well. I like the idea of organizing things, and would put a lot of energy into having everything ready to go every day. Also, I’d be concerned that all the kids got involved, and not let a few of the bigger ones take over or intimidate the smaller ones.”
He looked a little surprised at that, but quickly lost the look. He said, “Matt, you are very impressive. If you’d like the job, I think you’d be very good.” He told me what the pay was, and it was more than I expected. Then he asked me if I’d like to think it over, but said that he’d like an answer as soon as possible.
“I’m sorry. I just want to be sure I understand. Are you offering me the job?”
He laughed. “Yes, Matt, I’m making you a job offer.”
“Then I don’t have to think about it,” I said, my face lighting up like a Christmas tree. “I accept.”
He stood up and stuck out his hand. I stood too, leaned forward and shook it.
Walking home afterwards, I couldn’t get the grin off my face. I’d got the job! I’d had an interview and the guy had been impressed! By me! I had a job!